


Of Sofas and Silver

by Alice_Majella



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Brick!Club, Gen, fixfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 16:22:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alice_Majella/pseuds/Alice_Majella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were few things in life which Baptistine wanted, and fewer still which she would venture to ask from her holy brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Sofas and Silver

**Author's Note:**

> For the Brick!Clubbers over on Tumblr, in honour of Week One.

“One really does not need either fork or spoon, even of wood,” remarked the Bishop of Digne, “in order to dip a bit of bread in a cup of milk.”

Baptistine, softening her own hard bread with milk, smiled at her brother. Behind him, Madame Magloire frowned, her lips pressed tightly together. Baptistine silenced her with a gentle look before any disapproving words could fall from those lips. She disappeared toward the kitchen, where Baptistine suspected she didn’t stay silent for long.

“I did wrong in keeping that silver,” the Bishop continued. “I allowed myself a luxury which I did not deserve, and in doing so, I not only deprived the poor of what was rightfully theirs, but asked you, my dear sister, and Madame Magloire, to run this humble household in the impression of humility while we ate off silver worth sixteen hundred francs. It was wrong of me. I hope that one day, through my works, I shall be able to apologise to the poor, but to you, my sister – how can I apologise to you?”

“You need not,” said Baptistine softly.

“You have done much for me,” the Bishop affirmed. “If there were anything which I could do for you…”

Baptistine lowered her eyes. There were few things in life which she wanted, and fewer still which she would venture to ask from her holy brother. “There is nothing.”

 

In the subsequent weeks, Baptistine thought little of the conversation. The Bishop left to visit a far-off corner of his diocese, and Baptistine, accompanied by Magloire, went herself to visit an old friend. She was wont to do so when her brother made his long journeys – it eased her mind, to some degree, from her worries for his safety.

The women returned, exhausted from a day’s travel, while the Bishop was still away. With Magloire carrying the candle, Baptistine climbed the stairs to her chamber with weary feet. In the darkness, she barely noticed the dark shape out the corner of her eye as she crossed her drawing room.

It was not until she stood by the door to her chamber that the light from her window made Baptistine aware of cluster of hulking objects next to her. Her breath caught in her throat. Clutching Magloire’s hand, she turned tentatively.

She found herself facing nothing more than two chairs, and a sofa.

Baptistine had so often imagined owning that sofa -  the way the sunlight would fall through the window onto the dark wood, the brush of her skirt against the velvet as she passed - that it took her a moment to remember that she did not.

Barely aware of her actions, Baptistine reached run a hand over the soft velvet. Even by the light of the candle, it shone a deep, rich gold. The patterned roses seeming to move in the flickering of the flame.  She traced her fingers over the polished surface of the mahogany, its every dip and whorl exquisitely carved, smooth as silk. Her breath caught in her throat. She turned to Magloire, but found she had no words.

 “ _You_ were never going to tell him,” Magloire said.


End file.
